In the dark alley of a pub, the words “Please don’t” take hold of her heart and break the silence she seeks. Thinking herself beyond redemption, she tentatively grabs on to the slim thread of hope that unfolds inside of her.

Holding her secrets close, she can’t resist the comforting draw coming from The Skipper. The unconditional friendships it offers, the protective roof it provides, and the spark that its owner ignites in her—melting the frost off her heart, and slowly stripping away her resistance.

His life flows from one crisis to the next. Under the pressure of competition crowding him out of his family’s pub and the need to protect his children from the ruins of a bad marriage, he barely breathes. That is until a mane of strawberry-blonde hair and a set of big, pale blue eyes, shake him up.

He never expected the shadow of a woman he finds on the floor of his washroom to bring him the air―the balance and the light he’s been missing.

“Jesus, Gunnar. Close the door will you? You’re gonna have Syd here quit on her first day!” Viv yells as she slams the stall door closed. Some mumbling and shuffling of feet follows and I’m glad to hear the washroom door slam shut as well. Syd? That little thing’s name is Syd? What kind of fucking name is that for a girl? My stream downgraded to a trickle, I shake off and tuck my business away, zipping up as I push open the door to get my hands washed. The washroom is empty. Seems Viv has taken her new charge out of here and is probably somewhere trying to calm the little bird down. Christ, she looked like she was terrified. Feel kinda bad about that but holy shit; my bladder was bursting and I find some weird chick on the floor of the men’s room. I splash some water on my face in an attempt to rinse away some of the travel fatigue etched on my face. I’m getting fucking old at forty-four.

Freya Barker craved reading about 'real' people, those who are perhaps less than perfect, but just as deserving of romance, hot monkey sex and some thrills and chills in their lives – So she decided to write about them. Always creative, from an early age on she danced and sang, doodled, created, cooked, baked, quilted and crafted. Her latest creative outlets were influenced by an ever-present love for reading. First through blogging, then cover art and design, and finally writing. Born and raised in the Netherlands, she packed her two toddlers, and eight suitcases filled with toys to move to Canada. No stranger to new beginnings, she thrives on them. With the kids grown and out in the world, Freya is at the ‘prime’ of her life. The body might be a bit ramshackle, but the spirit is high and as adventurous as ever. Something you may see reflected here and there in some of her heroines.... none of who will likely be wilting flowers.